Letters to Jacob: "Hold my hand, Mommy."

January 5, 2013

Dear Jacob,

Sometimes, often, I need to remind myself to truly realize how fast you are growing and changing. And to make sure I am treasuring this fleeting toddler stage.

I remember when you were born people always told me how fast time would go, and before I knew it, you would be all grown up. And it always gave me this panicky feeling. I was so sleep deprived those first, three, colicky months. I often found myself dreaming of “in just a few months the colic should be over... “in just a few months he will be sleeping through the night”.... How could I treasure every moment, when all I could do was survive, and all I wanted to do was get some sleep?

But it was true. You have grown up so fast. I know you are only two. But, you are already two?!

How do I slow time down? How do I at least remember this time, so when it has passed us, I can at least look back and remember the little adorable sayings, the way you still have a slight baby waddle when you walk and run, the sleepy look you get in your eyes when you get Lovey out of the crib and start sucking your thumb, the sound of your toddler voice? For me, I hope the gazillion photographs and videos I take will help. And these letters.

Seemingly overnight, you went from calling me 'Mama' to 'Mommy'. Which I adore, by the way. You still put my name at the end of every sentence, which means in the course of a short conversation, you might say my name 15 times. I am ok with that. And one of my absolute favorite sentences of yours right now is, “Hold my hand, Mommy.”

You have started this game of “going to Walmart”. Sad, I know, but with limited shopping choices here, Walmart is the only store you know (that and the occasional trip to “Hobby Dobby”. You will announce to me that you are going to Walmart to buy x, y, and z. Usually milk, yogurt, and lately, chicken. That game sometimes involves me needing to come with you. Which sometimes just becomes you taking my hand and leading me around the house in circles.

Hold my hand, Mommy.”

And around and around we go.

This game usually starts right as I have finished cleaning, laundry, etc. I have usually jusssst sat down, and you decide that that particular moment would be a good time for “a walk”. Sometimes I oblige. Sometimes I don't. I make excuses. “Mommy is busy.” “I will come play, in a minute.” But good grief! Email and facebook and Pinterest will be there tonight and tomorrow and next week. How many more months, weeks, days (!) will I get to hear “Hold my hand, Mommy”??

I don't have to treasure every moment (and the toddler tantrum moments I. Do. Not). But the little, seemingly unimportant things, like your games, are the things I need to stop and take in. Take pictures of. Write down.